Comfort

It’s the golden hour. At least that’s what my photographer friend used to call it. That sun-going-down perfect light when beauty is easier to come by. A group of eight blokes play cricket on the park at the bottom of my street and you only have to watch them for 30 seconds or so to see that it matters.

The shouts, the ferocity of the bowls, the celebrations and commiserations.

I stroll around the edge with the dog and give them all my attention. I’m running on low battery after a taxing day working at the bottom of the garden. A podcast interview, a coaching session, an illustration deadline, and admin things squeezed in between. There’s mid-level stress at play in my gut, so I sit while I let the dog sniff around in the long, dried-out grass at the top.

It feels good watching the game. I don’t root for anyone, I don’t know the score, and I don’t want to join in either – I never really gave cricket much of a go, so the pull just isn’t there.

What I adore is the community. The tribe. The boys. Doing their thing, coming together through shared passion. I’m still working at finding more of that.

We all need a little more of that. Leading with creativity necessitates connection. Those Zoom calls, the podcast and the coaching session were invigorating on an inspiration level, but screens are a bit like those prison visits you see on TV dramas, aren’t they?

A few days later I get my act together and meet Lewis, a friend and local designer. We sit on a bench by the cathedral and talk about many things. Him with his son me with the dog. Half an hour or so. Then we walk back through town and carry on. I’m glad I did.

Lewis and I started ‘Friday Drinks’ here in Salisbury for this reason. Too many shed and spare room dwellers going out of their minds alone in a cut-throat market, with more to offer. I see more of it happening, in all those fringe towns and villages.